


Catalyst Switch

by tpchicken



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Admin is frustratingly stubborn, Case Fic, Gen, Protective Team, Season 2, Sortof, after 2x04, but before 2x10, harold whump, helpful detectives Carter & Fusco, i whump because I care, original bad guys, orignial team machine, protective reece, the machine is protective of Admin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-07-29 18:09:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7694323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tpchicken/pseuds/tpchicken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reese receives a number from the Machine instead of Finch, and while it seems innocent, he's reluctant to allow his partner to help him. Despite recent events, Harold is not about to be sidelined from helping the numbers, but his stubbornness lands him in hotter water than he bargained for. A season 2, canon compliant story in 4 parts, set between episodes 4 and 10.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a 4 part Person of Interest story set sometime between episodes 2x04 and 2x10. I've spent the summer binging POI, and Harold has endeared himself to me, so of course my muse needed to whump him a bit. I'd call this story canon compliant, no pairings unless you wanna squint a bit. Story is complete, and hopefully thoroughly edited, but not beta-ed. This is my first POI fic, but not my first fanfic. ENJOY!!! Next planned update 8/7/16.
> 
> Standard author's disclaimers apply.

Chapter 1

 “Good morning Finch,” John strolled into the Library where he was unsurprised to find Harold typing away at the computer.  Even though they had finished a case two days ago, John was sure that there were many other things Harold Finch had to facilitate in the day to day. 

“Mr. Reese!  I wasn’t expecting you today, I haven’t received a new number.”

“I know,” Reese replied, removing his gloves and disappearing between the book shelves.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m looking for a book.”

“Doing some light reading?”

“Not exactly,” he reappeared carrying three of Finch’s books, and lined them up in order.  “I received the call.”

“You received… from the Machine?” Finch stood up examining the three books.

“Yes.”

“That hasn’t happened since…”

“Since you came back.  I know.  Will you look this up please?”

Harold sat back down at his computer and after some swift key strokes a picture popped up on the monitor and started printing.  “Jamie Escobares, age 52, yes, I thought he looked familiar.  He runs one of the magazine kiosks I frequent sometimes when Grace’s work gets published.  He likes dogs.”

“That’s interesting Finch, but probably not the reason the Machine gave us his number.” 

Finch scowled for a moment at his compatriot and returned to the computer.  “I’m not seeing much else here, Mr. Reese.  As with some of an older generation, not much of an online presence, no email, I guess that makes sense when your livelihood depends on print media.”

“I guess I should go check him out.”

“I could go, Mr. Reese.  He’s seen me before, so it wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for him if I stop by and strike up conversation.”

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea Finch.”

“Oh?” Finch leaned back in his chair and gave Reese one of his piercing glares.

“It’s just that, the Machine gave this number to me, and not you, which is unusual.  So maybe the Machine doesn’t want you working this case.”

“The Machine doesn’t want me working… The Machine, or you Mr. Reese?”

“The Machine, but it doesn’t hurt that I agree with it.” John walked around and taped the picture of Mr. Escobares on the glass. He knew Harold was staring at him with his trademark piercing glare.

“Oh you do?” Finch shot back accusingly.  “Yeah,” he turned back to Finch and tried to put on his most caring face.  “I mean, it hasn’t been that long since you’ve been back, nor since you were having panic attacks in the middle of oncoming traffic. Are you sure you’re ready to go back out for field work, into possibly dangerous situations?”

“Mr. Reese, I realize that my recovery from recent events has been, let’s call it private, and I’ve appreciated you not drawing attention to my certain complications.  What you must realize is the numbers will never stop, regardless of situations that happen in my life.  If I’m going to continue to be helpful, we’re going to need to put the past behind us.  I’ve been getting myself together and getting here every day without your assistance, I can certainly walk to the local kiosk and have polite conversation without the world ending.”

“Look Finch, the Machine…”

“The Machine is just that.  It’s code and processes that I designed.  It doesn’t look out for me. It’s has no concern about me leaving the library, because it’s not programmed to do that!” Finch thought to himself, _at least not anymore._

“Okay, okay Finch, calm down,” Reese raised his hands in defeat. “I’m sorry to even suggest it.”

Finch returned back to his chair, his gaze unfocused in front of him.  “I have to do these things, Mr. Reese, if I’m going to move on.”

Just then Reese’s phone rang.  He glanced briefly at the ID before answering, “Carter?”

“Something’s going on down here, John.  Do you have a moment to meet, or are you working right now?”

“Mr. Reese is available to meet with you Detective Carter,” Finch interrupted.  Reese shifted his eyes back on the other man. 

“Good. You know the place. I’ll be there in 20,” and the call ended.

“Have it your way Finch.”

“I’ll be fine Mr. Reese.”

“At least take Bear.”

“No, Bear will need to stay.  It’s too hard to work on my phone without both hands free.”

“Fine, but Finch, if there are any problems, you call me right away.”

“Of course, Mr. Reese.”

Finch stood back up and put on his overcoat and scarf.  They locked up the library and Reese walked with him to the corner where they went their separate ways.  John thought maybe he was overreacting.  He tried to soothe that nagging voice in the back of his mind.  It was possible that he was becoming as paranoid as Harold, he thought with a laugh.  Not everyone in New York was out to get them.   

 

(SCENE BREAK)

 

Forty-five minutes or so later, Reese and Carter found themselves holed up in a booth of a little diner.  Carter was warming her hands around her coffee mug, while Reese listened to her recent update on Agent Donnelly and the FBI case against the man in the suit. 

“He just needs another distraction.  Something else will come the FBI’s way soon.”

“I don’t know, John, he seems eerily fixated.  I think the building could burn down around him, and he wouldn’t care as long as he catches you.”

Reese’s Bluetooth beeped. He motioned to Carter that he’d be just a moment and touched his earwig, connecting it.  “Finch?  Are you okay?”

“I’ve made a grievous error Mr. Reese!” Finch’s harried whispers came through the device.

“What’s wrong?”

“Mr. Escobares is being robbed, by two men, at gun point, right now!”

John looked pointedly at Carter.  “I’ll pull the car around,” she got up, throwing some bills down on the table and rushing for the door.

“Is this what the machine identified as the threat Finch?”

“I don’t think so, it only sees premeditated crimes, and this doesn’t seem very… ah!”

“Finch?!”  Reese was moving for the door now, scanning for Carter’s car.  He could hear Finch’s labored breathing and the sounds of a man threatening to blow Harold’s brains out if they didn’t get money right now.  The hostile sounds continued through his ear piece as he barked the address to Carter and she sped away.  He could hear Finch being dragged into an alleyway, or possibly, a side street.

“Hold on Harold, we’re coming,” he tried to reassure his partner as Carter hit the siren.  It sounded like they were getting into a car.  John could hear more muffled talking between the men, and maybe something in Russian, finally a loud noise.  Then the line went dead. 

“Finch? Harold!  Damn it!”

Carter was driving like a women possessed, “Hold on John, we’re almost there.”

Reese was pretty sure it wasn’t going to matter.  He had a sinking feeling that they were already too late. 

 

(SCENE BREAK)

 

Harold had taken a slightly more scenic route to the magazine kiosk after departing Mr. Reese’s company.  After all his bravado earlier, he admitted to himself that he had to steel his nerves a bit before performing more undercover work, even for something as simple as this.  He distracted himself by the thought that he had planned to pick up Grace’s most recent illustrations anyway, and this was the perfect excuse to do so. 

Thankfully the weather was brisk, but nice.  He walked up to the kiosk just as Mr. Escobares finished ringing up two women purchasing various fashion and gossip magazines.  Finch busied himself looking for his desired periodical. 

“Hello! No Bear today?” Mr. Esocbares moved from behind his cash register to stand near Finch.

Finch looked up from the magazines, “Sadly, no, I have some other non-dog friendly errands to run today, so Bear had to stay behind.”

“Ah, too bad.  Such a beautiful animal.  I’m quite jealous, but a dog that size would not fit in my family’s tiny apartment.”

“He does demand quite a bit of space and attention.”

“Well, attention we could provide.  I’m sure my kids would spoil a dog quite rotten.”

“Hah, yes.  By the way, I don’t think we’ve formally met?”

“No?  Well, please, my friends just call me Jamie,” and he stretched out his hand.

“Harold, then.  It’s nice to finally put a name to the face,” Finch returned the hand shake.  “Tell me, Jamie, do you get a chance to read many of these magazines?  I was hoping to pick up one or two more of these about art and culture, but I’m not sure what’s good.” 

“The kiosk keeps me pretty busy, but I did glance at some of them when I put them up for display.  Maybe a few down here would be something you’re interested in?” Jamie pointed down on a lower shelf where several similar magazines were organized. 

“Thank you!  I’ll take a look,” Finch gingerly got down on one knee.  Jamie returned behind the cash register and seemed to busy himself with his phone, so Finch took this opportunity to retrieve his own phone to blue jack Jamie’s.  He was too distracted to notice the two men that had just arrived at the kiosk and were hurriedly talking to each other in Russian.  The phone had finally finished its connection when one of the men pulled out a gun and shot into the air.  Finch ducked his head in shock and fell over from his crouched position.  He rotated to put his back against the kiosk wall and attempted to make himself as small as possible on the ground. 

The man with the gun was now loudly threatening Jamie and demanding the money in the register. Jamie seemed to be arguing with the man, begging that his family needed that money, and they could not take that, too.  Finch was shocked that Jamie would risk his life for whatever small sum was in the register.  Quietly he reached up and connected to Mr. Reese.    

“I’ve made a grievous error Mr. Reese!” Finch whispered as best he could.  He didn’t want to draw attention to himself.

“What’s wrong?”

“Mr. Escobares is being robbed, by two men, at gun point, right now!” he could hear Carter talking in the background, but his attention was brought back to the two men.  The first one was repeatedly jabbing his gun at Jamie, trying to get him to move faster.  Jamie had finally agreed to open the register, but he seemed to be stalling, maybe for police to arrive.  The second Russian had also pulled out a gun and was pointing it randomly at whomever he felt was the biggest target at the moment.  Finch was growing ever more concerned that someone was going to be killed.

“Is this what the machine identified as the threat Finch?”

“I don’t think so, it only sees premeditated crimes, and this doesn’t seem very… ah!”

The second man must have decided that enough was enough.  He grabbed Finch by the lapels of his overcoat, lifting him to a standing positing and twisted him around into a headlock.  His gun was now at Finch’s temple, and he said in his thick accent, ““Give us the money, or I blow this man’s brains out!”

Jamie reluctantly relinquished the last of the funds in the cash register to the first man, as the second man started to drag Finch away, “We’re going, now!”

The first man continued to train his gun on Jamie Escobares, but followed his partner around the corner and down a darkened side street.  Finch did his best to stay on his feet as he was half pushed, half dragged through the narrow opening onto another, quieter street.  He grasped for purchase on the thick arm around his neck and shoulders, with wide eyes and labored breathing.  His hopes of being released after the criminals and managed their getaway were dashed as they continued to take their prisoner to a waiting car. 

“Can you drive?” the first man asked Finch.

“Yes.”

“Good, get in,” he pointed his gun at Finch as the second man released him.  Finch started around the car.

“Wait!” said the second man, “give me your phone.”  Finch reluctantly handed the man his phone and entered the driver’s side of the car.  The first man got in the passenger seat, gun still trained on him.  He said something to the second man in Russian, and he dropped Finch’s phone on the ground and shot it with his gun.  Harold jumped at the sound, and the first man laughed at him.  While the second man got in the back seat, the first man produced a pair of handcuffs.  He placed one around Finch’s right wrist, and the other around the steering wheel. 

“I’m getting an inkling that perhaps robbery was not your first motive?” Finch asked, trying to sound braver than he felt.

The man in the passenger seat responded by handing the keys to Finch, training his gun on his prisoner, and telling him to drive where he was told. 


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

 

Several bystanders had called 911 during the robbery and abduction, so the uniformed cops were already on the scene taking witness statements when Carter and Reese arrived.  They had missed the whole thing by approximately 5 minutes, not arriving quick enough to save Finch from whatever fate awaited him now.   Reese made a phone call to Fusco, alerting him to the situation, and having him search for any camera feeds he could access as soon as possible. 

“All your gadgets and doohickies and you don’t have a way to track your friend down?  Even after his Root abduction?” Carter asked.

Reese looked at her with a sly smile, “Actually I’ve been tracking him since we left the diner.  They seem to be driving randomly around town, maybe trying to shake an imaginary tail?  We’ll catch up to them when they stop, but until then, I’d like to gather as much information about these guys, so we don’t walk into anything blind.”

“Of course.  I’m going to go talk to the officers.”

Reese walked around the corner to where the car had been parked and found Finch’s phone on the ground.  The bullet through it was a concern.  It meant that at least one of the men was violent. He pocketed the damaged phone and started his walk back to Carter.  He took a moment from monitoring the tracking app to check if Finch had blue jacked Escobares’ phone before the attack had happened. 

When anyone on the team blue jacked a phone, the information was sent to the others, plus Finch’s system at the library.  Reese examined the contacts and recent calls and found nothing suspicious until he got to the text messages.  There, sent shortly before the robbery, was a text message sent to an unknown number:

_He’s here, without the dog._

He swore under his breath.  The machine had known.  There had been a conspiracy against Finch, and Reese had let him walk right into it.  His anger flashed white against his vision, and he stormed over to where Carter was talking to Escobares.  She was handing him one of her cards and asking him to contact her if he remembered any more information.

“Or you could just tell us now who those men were and what they wanted with the man they kidnapped!” he closed the gap between himself and the number.

“John?” she tried to put her hand on his elbow to stop him, but he shrugged her off.

“I know the robbery was a ruse!” he was stepping ever closer to Escobares as the other man back away until his back found the nearby wall. “I know that you alerted the kidnappers that their man was here before they showed up.  So now you’re going to tell me who they are, because that man they took?  That man is my friend, and he is a good man.  He doesn’t deserve whatever is happening to him right now.”

Jamie’s eyes went wide as he realized he couldn’t lie anymore, and then he hung his head in shame. “Yes, okay.  I will tell you.  I was just trying to protect my family and my business.  These two men, Russians, I don’t know their names, they’ve been coming by for about two or three months now, trying to shake me down for protection money, but I hadn’t given in.  Then, about two weeks or so, they changed tactics.  They promised me they would leave me alone for good, and all I had to do was let them know when this man, Harold, came to the kiosk.  They had his picture, I’m not sure where it was taken, outside some sort of big building.  I continued to resist, but they assured me they just wanted to ask him a question or two.

“So, ten days ago Harold came by, with Bear, and I let the Russians know.  When they got here, the dog growled at them and they couldn’t get near, and so they left.  I hoped that was the end of it, but they returned to my kiosk and informed me I had to let them know when he was here without the dog.  I told them no, that I wanted no part in it, but they threatened to torch my kiosk, and then my apartment.  I had to agree.  I didn’t know they were going to kidnap him, or hurt anyone, or rob me!  I wish I had just called the police, but I can be so stubborn sometimes.”

So, Escobares had been a victim after all.  If he had just handled this himself, instead of getting Finch involved, he could have taken care of this easily and the Russians would simply be in jail.  He quickly banished those thoughts until later.  Now they needed to know exactly who these Russians were.  They weren’t working for the government, too sloppy, and he doubt they were working for Root for the same reasons.  No, she certainly didn’t need men asking questions when she was usually the one with all the answers. 

So it must be one of their other enemies.  They had amassed quite a few in the last year.  The Yogorovs were a good bet, although it could be any of the crime families still around.  HR was another safe choice.  It was even a possibly that Elias’s organization was after them, even though they seemed to be at a truce for the moment.  There was just not enough information yet to know who had taken Finch. 

Escobares had no other information for them.  Starting right at square one, Reese called Fusco back to see if he had tracked down any cameras from the scene.  Fusco had been busy, he had found several cameras and had gotten decent face shots of their perpetrators and their vehicle.  He texted these to Reese, but wisely avoided texting him the footage of the actual abduction.  Fusco was pretty sure that if tall, dark and scary could see the frightened look on their mutual friend’s face in the video, there’d be no stopping his wrathful vengeance. 

While on the phone with Fusco, the tracker pinged that Finch’s movement had stopped.  Oddly it seemed he was in a lot for out-of-service taxi cabs.  Sensing that something was amiss with this, he sent Fusco to check it out.  Carter, meanwhile had decided to see if she could identify the Russians with Szymanski over in Organized Crime.  There was nothing left he could do at his current location, Escobares seemed to be out of trouble and remorseful for his part, so Reese headed back to the library.  He hoped that with the picture of the car Fusco had provided, and with the GPS history from the tracker in Finch’s glasses, he could hopefully recover his partner before nothing worse happened to him.

 

(SCENE BREAK)

 

Finch had been driving for the last 15 minutes.  The handcuff around his wrist chafed every time he turned the wheel. The seriousness of the situation was causing sweat to trickle down his back and into his eyes.  After a calculated number of turns, he was finally told to turn into a garage off a busy street.  Once parked, the man at his left unlocked the cuff around the steering wheel, while the man previously in the back seat opened the driver’s side door and practically lifted him to a standing position, cuffing both hands together in front of him.

The man that had previously occupied the passenger seat then came around and started waving some sort of scanning device around Finch.  They started at his shoes and worked upwards.  Finch wasn’t sure what they were looking for, he had no weapons or other devices on his person, now that they had disposed of his phone.  He was sure that their efforts were in vain, until they came to his glasses, and the device started to beep.  The glasses were forcibly removed from his face, and his vision became swampy.  In the dim lighting he could just make out the two men.  He heard a snapping noise, and then the glasses were shoved back into his cuffed hands, sans the right ear piece.  The next noise he heard was departing footsteps.  Thinking that he would prefer to have his glasses not suffer any more damage, lest he need them to escape somehow, he tucked them into the breast pocket of his dress shirt, under his vest. 

A moment later, this decision turned out to be wise because the second man, the larger, more physical of the two, blindfolded Finch.  He spun him around a bit, partly to disorient the already blinded man, partly for sadistic fun, then frog walked his captive to another vehicle and forced him into the back.  It was some sort of van or SUV; Finch couldn’t be sure anymore.  He could hear the two men open the front doors of the vehicle and climb in, and a moment later they were driving again. 

 

(SCENE BREAK)

“Fusco, you find something?”

“I can tell you what I didn’t find, ‘glasses’ isn’t here at the taxi company, but part of his glasses is.”

“The part with the tracker in it, right?”

“Yeah, I found it in the back of one of the taxis.”

“Well, did you question the driver?”

“Of course, I ain’t no rookie.  Driver said he hasn’t seen our four-eyed friend, but some Russian guy flagged him down outside a parking garage.  He went to get in, then changed his mind, and handed the driver a hundred for his troubles.  Our perp must have hidden the tracker in the backseat to throw us off.”

“Do you have a location of the parking garage?”

“I have a general idea. I’m texting it to you.”

“I’ll check it against the GPS data I have, and maybe we can figure out exactly when and where we lost Finch.”

It took only a moment or two to sync up the GPS data and find the parking garage where Finch had been and text that information to Detective Carter.  Reese hoped she’d could find a camera or two at the garage that could help him locate where they had gone.  His whole body buzzed with adrenaline, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to sit at the library and wait for Carter or Fusco to find something.  His next step would be to go to the parking garage and canvas it himself.  Maybe he’d find a clue to where Finch was now.  The sooner Reese found them, the sooner he could bring Finch back where he belonged.

 

(SCENE BREAK)

 

Finch was unsure how long he had been in the back of this vehicle.  Both of his wrists were now raw under the handcuffs from trying to stop himself from being thrown around every time they took a turn, and his back and hips were stiff and sore.  They had driven for what seemed like an endless amount of time in his blinded state, and then, when they finally did stop, he had not been immediately retrieved from his prison.  He had been left in the dark, the vehicle muffled any sound from where it had been parked. 

He dared not take off the blindfold, but strained to use his other senses to guess where he may be.  The air was stale and hot, and there were no sounds from wildlife.  Finch hoped that this meant they were still within city limits.  As long as they were still in New York, Finch was confident that Mr. Reese would find him soon enough. 

If only he could figure out why these men had abducted him in the first place.  His first concern was they had somehow become aware of the Machine and the irrelevant list.  It seemed unlikely that this was the scenario in play, since they were obviously not part of any government agency.  They did seem a lower class of criminal, but they must know that he worked with someone, having the presence to check him for the tracker or bug that Mr. Reese had installed on his glasses. He could only hope that Mr. Reese had the information he needed before the tracker had been removed. 

The thought that anyone else had invade his privacy was too concerning to entertain.  They certainly had made a laundry list of enemies in recent months.  After his return to the library, Finch had made upgrades to the systems on his computers and the security of his buildings.  Not that it had done him any good, as evidenced by his current situation.  It was getting harder to concentrate, cuffed up wherever he was.  His mouth was dry, and he was feeling lightheaded and tired.  He adjusted his back and relaxed his eyes under the blindfold.

Finally, the two men returned to retrieve him.  The blindfold was removed, but his vision was still impaired by his lack of eyewear.  He was lead to a bathroom, where he was given a moment to freshen up.  He could hear one of the men keeping watch just outside the bathroom door.  He did as best he could with his hands still cuffed in front of him.  He looked at himself in the dirty mirror of the bathroom.  This was certainly not where he had expected to be at the end of the day when he woke up this morning, he splashed some water on his face and then his best to perch his broken glasses back on his nose.

After he was finished, and now that he could see again, he found out he was in an abandoned office building.  It had an open floor plan, possibly some sort of cubical farm had once resided within the walls, but it was now bare of almost all furniture, except for a lonely hard back chair and a desk, to which he was brought.  His left wrist was then released, and he was chained to the handle of one of the desk drawers.  The two men stood across the desk from him, staring expectantly, as if Finch would simply reveal what they needed to know. 

Finch stared back in stubborn silence.  He didn’t know why he was there, but he certainly wasn’t going to be the first to share any information.  This silent standoff didn’t last long before the smaller of the bulky men spoke.

“You don’t look like much. Soft and pampered, but you’re certainly more resilient than we expected,” he jabbed his them towards the other man, “Anton was sure you’d be crying for mercy before we even reached the first parking garage.”

“Dimitri,” the second man growled.

“Nevertheless, you’ll forgive us introducing ourselves this way.  It was necessary not to reveal our intentions before we were ready.”

“Reveal to whom?” Finch finally spoke.

“You already know who,” Dimitri answered, but Finch was still at a loss.  Reveal to Reese?  Or maybe it was one of their detective friends.  His mind raced through all the numbers they had helped recently that he had directly contacted, but no one seemed to have been connected to the two men in front of him. 

Dimitri walked behind him and placed his hands on Finch’s shoulders, “We have questions, I know you have the answers.  All you have to do is give us the information we request, and we can let you out of here, no sweat.  Mess with us, refuse to answer us, disobey us?  Then Anton will get angry, and you don’t want him to be angry.  Do you understand, Harold?”

So they knew his name, and now he knew theirs, which means it was unlikely that they were planning on letting him out of here alive.  Without knowing which surname they had, he was unable to know why they had grabbed him in the first place.  It was a certainty that he was about to make Anton very angry. The situation was becoming quite dire, and Finch calculations of his survival were quite low. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the lovely comments and editing advice! I really do appreciate it. I hope you continue to enjoy my story. :) Next planned update 8/8/16


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

 

“John.”

“Carter?”

“I’ve identified our two kidnappers, the Voloshin brothers, Dimitri and Anton, recently employed by the Yogorovs as lower level enforcers.”

“Recently?” Reese’s voice echoed in the parking garage as he further inspected the abandoned car he had found there.

“Turns out there’s a third brother, Viktor.  The three of them were running one of the Yogorov’s operations, bungled it bad and Viktor got pinched by the cops.  He’s currently serving time in Rikers.”

“When was this?”

“About 3 months ago.”

Reese filed this information away in his brain.  He wasn’t sure if the Voloshins were working for themselves now, trying to get back into the good graces of the Yogorovs, or something else.  He wasn’t even sure if he really cared.  He just wanted Finch back. “Did you get anything off the cameras around the parking garage?”

“Yes, the garage has cameras at the entrances and exits.  We caught them driving in with the car Fusco identified from the robbery.  Seven minutes later they drive out in a black minivan.  We’ve got the plates.  Fusco is here trying to identify where they went with traffic cameras.”

“Could you see Finch?”

Reese could hear Carter hesitate over the phone before she spoke, “They had Finch driving the getaway car, John, and I can’t be sure, but it looks like he was handcuffed.  He was definitely under duress.  I couldn’t see him when the van pulled out, the windows were tinted.”

“I’m with the car now at the garage.  He isn’t here, so it’s more likely they took him with them.   The Voloshins planned this whole charade to get to Finch, Carter, they must want him for something.  Hopefully that’ll keep him alive until we can find him.  How’s Lionel doing with those traffic cameras?”

“I’m right here,” Fusco’s voice came over the phone.  “I tracked them as far as I could, I’m texting you the last location, but I can’t be sure if that’s where they are or if they managed to avoid being seen after that.”

His phone beeped, “I’ll check it out.  You and Carter keep looking into the Voloshins.  It might help to know how they found out about Finch in the first place.”

Fusco sighed, “It’s not going to be easy if we can’t even figure out where ‘glasses’ goes half the time.”

“Do your best detective,” Reese pocketed his phone and headed out for the next location to search.

 

(SCENE BREAK)

 

Things had started slowly, and escalated quickly when Dimitri realized that mind games were not going to work.  He had removed Finch’s left arm from his jacked sleeve, rolling up his tailored shirt sleeve above his elbow.  When Anton produced a knife, Finch decided it might be worth it to be more forthcoming on whatever information these two men wanted.  Sadly, their questions continued to be infuriatingly vague, as if he was just supposed to know who and what they were talking about.

Then Anton started cutting.  Dimitri was pulling Finch’s left arm across the table from the other side of the desk, holding his hand palm down.  Anton had him by the elbow with his right hand, and was using his left to press the knife into the flesh of Finch’s forearm.  Finch couldn’t even move as the knife bit into him.  It was obvious that Anton enjoyed his work.  He made intricate cuts, as if he was forming some sort of grotesque line art.  Some were deep and straight, others shallow and curved.  Finch tried not to cry out, to be as stoic as Reese would be, but his labored breath and wincing groans betrayed him.

“Please,” he begged. “I don’t understand!  Just tell me what you want, and I’ll tell you.”

“You know what I want!  I want to know why you’re meeting with him, what you’re telling him, and what you do for him!”

“Him?  Which him?  I don’t understand!” Finch cried out in pain.  There were tears running down his face, his broke glasses had fallen off minutes ago.  The redness under his left arm was growing with every cut.

Anton stood back up and pointed the knife at Finch’s face, “Carl Elias!  That’s who! For a smart guy, you sure are dumb.”

Finch’s mind went blank, like it was resetting with this new information.  Now that he knew exactly what these guys wanted, his brain worked on formulating an escape plan, “Carl Elias?”

“Yes!  You’re Harold Crane, you visit Elias out at Rikers all the time to play chess, but we know there’s got to be more than that going on.  So you’re going to tell us exactly what you do for Elias’s organization, or Anton is going to start cutting again.”

Finch hid is relief.  He hadn’t forfeited any information, but he knew exactly what his captors were and what they wanted.  It would not do any good to deny his involvement with Elias, since they already knew about his visits to the prison somehow.  His next decision needed to be how close he could play to the truth without actually give up any information. 

“Mr. Elias likes to play chess.  I’m part of a group that helps rehabilitate inmates through tabletop game play interaction.”

Anton slapped the knife down on the desk and looked Finch straight in the eye.  The he reeled back his right fist and slammed into Finch’s jaw.  He cried out in pain as he fell off the chair into a heap on the floor, his right arm raised above him, still cuffed to the desk.  He wasn’t sure whether to cradle his left arm to staunch the blood flow, or cup his cheek where the blow landed and he alternated between the two as he blinked the stars out of his vision. 

“Try again,” Dimitri said. “We already know it’s more than that, so lies will just bring you more pain.”

Finch took several sobbing breathes to steel himself.  Round one had been a failure, hopefully they would buy round two.

“I’m good with computers,” Finch whispered. “Sometimes I require Mr. Elias’s assistance.  In return, Mr. Elias asks for certain information that only I can provide.  I search it out, give it to my associate, who in return relays it to Elias’s networks on the outside. That’s all.”

“Who’s your associate?”

“His name is John Reese.”

“Who does he contact?”

“A gentleman in Mr. Elias’s organization, scar on his face, I don’t know him personally.”

“And how good are you with these computers?”

“Very good.”

“Oh, yeah? Well, we’ll see.” 

Dimitri motioned to Anton, and they walked out the nearest door.  Finch was left to himself on the floor.  Gingerly, he reached for his glasses and set them on the desk.  Then he slowly and painfully worked his way back to the desk chair.  His right arm was still in his jacket and cuffed to the desk, so he twisted the jacket to the front of his body and did his best to wrap it around his bleeding left arm, hoping to staunch the ever increasing blood loss.  He was nauseous and dizzy, but those sensations could also have come from the blow to the head.  He wanted to close his eyes and lay down, but that probably wasn’t the best idea.  All he could do was hope that his story was close be believable.

It felt like he barely had a moment to himself before the two men were back.  Dimitri carried a laptop under his arm, which he set up in front of Finch.  He looked up, raising an eyebrow in surprise.  “We were just going to use you as a bargaining chip against Elias, but if you’re as good as you say you are, you can provide us with some extra support in exchange for your life, instead.”

The laptop sprung to life.  Finch’s fingers itched to touch the keyboard, just the ticket he needed to get himself out of this situation.  He played up his reluctance to help the two kidnappers just enough to not raise their suspicions, but he had a feeling these two were novices with computer systems, and hiding his true purposes was going to be a cake walk.  His fingers danced slowly over the keyboard as he set to work.

 

(SCENE BREAK)

 

Fusco could feel Reese’s frustration radiate in waves through the phone.  Reese had been out canvasing the area where they video feed had lost the van without success at finding the van or Finch. They had hit the proverbial brick wall, and weren’t sure where to turn next.  Fusco wasn’t sure when it started to happen, but he genuinely felt concern over Reese’s mental being and anyone that may cross him while he was in that state.  Without any new information, and unable to calm ‘wonder boy’ down, Fusco handed the phone to Carter in the hope she had better luck. 

He could hear Carter try to convince Reese to meet her as he turned to his computer.  He thought maybe he could look up other known associates of the Voloshin brothers.  Someone out there could know what that low life scum had been planning, and it would do Reese good to have a purpose.  He was just pulling up a search window, when his whole computer blinked and started accessing things on its own.  An admin window popped up, followed by a string a text, then what looked like the access to Riker’s database. 

“What the hell?” sighed Fusco.  Carter looked over from where she had been talking on the phone.

“I don’t believe it, it’s Finch!  John, he’s accessing Fusco’s computer.”

“Wait! You’re serious? I take back everything I said about these guys being good, if they actually gave ‘glasses’ a laptop,” Fusco said as he watched the text scroll on the screen. 

“What’s happening?” Reese asked over the phone.

“He’s mirrored over our database to Rikers.  That way he can access the information, and it looks like he’s changing things without actually affecting anything.  He’s accessing Viktor Voloshin’s file.  It looks like they’re trying to get him released.”

“That’s crazy!  It’s not that simple.”

“They don’t know that Fusco. Wait, we’re getting something else.  GPS coordinates!  This must be where Finch is.  I’ll send it to you, John.  Do you want us to meet you there?”

“No, head to Rikers in case they take him there to pick up the brother.  I can handle it if I catch them first,” then the line went silent. 

“Glad I’m not them,” Fusco muttered as he holstered his weapon.  Carter was at her own desk retrieving her things, when she noticed that her computer had also been tampered with.  Open on her desktop was every file from laptop Finch was currently using.  She took a moment to open and skim.  Information on shakedowns that the Voloshin brothers had performed before and after their association with the Yogorovs were all detailed in several easy to read excel sheets.  If the robbery and kidnapping in broad daylight wasn’t enough, they now had all the information they needed to keep this family of criminals behind bars for a long while. 

_Nice move Finch,_ she thought as she and her partner left the station.

 

(SCENE BREAK)  


Four blocks south.  That’s how far away the GPS coordinates were from Reese’s current location.  He was just arriving when he saw the dark van pull out and race away.  They were so close, he chastised himself for not widening his search parameters sooner.  Unsure whether Finch was even in the van, he decided to search the building, just in case someone had been left behind.  Recalling his training, he swept silently through the building.  He could see light at the end of the next hallway, and voices became louder as he quickened his pace towards it. 

He lurked in the shadow of the doorway for a moment, his eyes adjusting to new sources of light.  Across the room, Finch was sitting behind a laptop at a desk.  Overcoat and Jacket discarded, he looked disheveled, worn and frightened.  Reese could make out the bandaged covering Finch’s left arm, darkened with bloodstains.  He kept lifting his right hand to readjust the glasses on his face that were precariously perched without both ear pieces. 

Anton Voloshin towered over the older man, angrily demanding that Finch use the computer once more to adjust some bank transactions.  Finch desperately tried to explain that without further equipment, breaching the firewalls of such an institution would be infinitely more complicated and take much more time than Anton was willing to give him to perform such a task.  Every second Anton’s temper flared further. He lifted his knife and gestured wildly in Finch’s direction. 

Sensing now was time to end this, Reese lifted his gun to his eye line and hoped that he would be quick enough to overtake the two men with the element of surprise before Anton stuck his knife into Finch.  He was just about in range to overtake the two men when his presence was discovered.  It was Anton, and not Finch, that saw him first, and moving quickly for a man his size, positioned himself behind his captive.  Finch was lifted from his seated position, glasses flying, and again he found himself with a beefy arm around his chest.  The knife was at his throat.

“I bet I can slice him before you shoot me,” Anton growled.

“Don’t,” Reese warned.  He slowly circled around to get the line of sight he was looking for on Anton. 

“Then drop your gun, or you can watch him bleed out here on the floor.”

Anton pressed the knife into Finch’s neck for effect, a thin line of red forming.  This was enough for Reese.  He aimed and fired.  The bullet ripped through Anton’s left shoulder, causing his arm and the knife to flail backwards, the knife skittering away across the floor behind them.  For good measure, Reese shot again twice, this time through both knees.  Anton was left in a bleeding crumpled heap. 

Finch had fallen forward.  He had tried to brace his fall with his hands, but his left arm gave way underneath him, causing him to fall awkwardly on his hip.  He gasped in pain as Reese ran towards him and helped him back up.  Reese gave him a quick once over, then retrieved his lost glasses from the floor and the gauze off the desk.  He handed Finch a strip of gauze, who pressed it gingerly against the cut on his throat. 

“Mr. Reese,” he said breathlessly, “So glad to see you.”

“And you.  Are you ready to get out of here?” he placed his hand under Finch’s left elbow and guided him towards the door.

“Very much so.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me through this penultimate chapter! I've enjoyed all your comments and such. Just an epilogue left. Last planned update: 8/10/16


	4. Epilogue

Chapter 4

 

Dimitri Voloshin had strolled into Rikers like he owned the place and was promptly placed under arrest for robbery, kidnapping and a whole slew of other charges by Detectives Carter and Fusco.  Then they retrieved Anton from the floor of the empty office building before he bled out and arrested him as well.  Fusco had declared it just another day of good works completed, which wasn’t too far from the truth.

The time between Finch’s kidnapping to the reunion of the two partners was approximately 7 hours.  Reese had returned Finch to the library and stitched up some of his deeper wounds, redressing his arm.  He tried to seem nonchalant, but Reese kept a careful eye on Finch and his mood.  Past experience suggested that Finch wouldn’t be talkative while his brain processed the ordeal he had just gone through, and Finch seemed to prove that to be true.  He was silent during the trip back to the library and the medical care.  It was only after Reese had cleaned up, and they were about to part ways did Finch dare to speak.

“It seems I’m deeper in your debt, Mr. Reese.”  
“I owe you for leaving you this morning to deal with this on your own, but you seem to have provided enough clues for us to find you.”

Finch paused a moment to consider, “Perhaps we should stop keeping score then?”  
“Perhaps,” he replied.  Reese knew the truth; he could never fully repay the debt he owed to Finch.  He could only continue to try, and if that meant saving Harold Finch’s life over and over, he would gladly do it. 

They said goodnight outside the library.  Finch, Bear’s leash in his right hand, walked the dog back to his apartment for the evening.  Reese was to return to his own apartment, but they both knew he would silently follow Finch until he saw him safely home, then wait there, a silent sentinel, until he felt comfortable with Finch’s safety.  Reese then retired to his own place to rest and change, and was back up early the next morning to once again follow Finch back to the library.  The threat against Finch may have been eliminated, but both men needed that quiet reassurance before everything returned to their odd sense of normal. 

After seeing Finch safely ensconced back at the library, Reese left to grab breakfast and hot beverages for them.  When he returned, Finch was finishing up at the computer.  He glanced up at the monitor to watch Bear greet his master. 

“Mr. Reese.  I was just finishing up some things from yesterday.  I set up scholarship funds for Mr. Escobares’ children, and paid off some loans he had taken out on his kiosk.  Hopefully this will free up some of his money, and they can move to a bigger apartment.  Perhaps he can adopt that dog his children wanted.”

“That’s generous of you, Finch.”

“It’s the least I could do after my presence caused so much trouble yesterday,” he stood up and shrugged on his overcoat. 

 “That’s not exactly an accurate description of yesterday’s events.  Where are you going, now?”  
“My weekly chess match with Elias is this morning.”   
“Are you sure that’s such a good idea?” he asked, handing Finch his tea. 

“Mr. Reese, I’m actually very confident that I’m safe visiting Mr. Elias.  I do not wish these past experiences to impede my ability to help you with the numbers or in the performance of my duties.  Nevertheless…” he had taken the lid of his tea, and stared into the cooling liquid.

“Nevertheless, there’s no shame in asking for help from a friend, Harold.  If you’re feeling uneasy about anything, I would be happy to accompany you today.”

Finch looked up, a small grateful smile on his lips.  “I would appreciate that.  Thank you John.”

 

(SCENE BREAK)

 

Finch had decided not to inform Elias of what had transpired, but when he arrived for their chess match, Elias shared with him that he was already aware of the previous day’s events.  He apologized to Finch that their relationship had placed him in such a precarious situation, and promised that swift retribution had already been dealt.  The promise was also made that Finch would not be placed in such a situation again, for word had been spread through the underworld, that anyone trying to get to Elias through any of his visitors in prison, would regret their actions immediately and repercussions would be severe and far felt.  Finch decided that he would not inquire after any more details, and Elias provided none.  They spent the next hour playing chess.  Finch lost twice, understandable off his game that day. 

Reese was waiting outside when Finch return.  His time had not been idle, having conversations with both Fusco and Carter.  He found out from Carter that the Voloshin brothers had decided to abduct Finch after Viktor saw him at Rikers visiting Elias.  Their plan was to use him either to return to the good graces of the Yogorovs, or barter him back to Elias as leverage in his organization.  Either plan had been thrown out the window in favor of having Finch spring their brother from prison and creating, what they thought would be, their own super criminal organization. 

Their own greed and naivety was their downfall, once they had given Finch their laptop.  Anton had been recovering at the hospital, when he suddenly died in the night.  Both Viktor and Dimitri had been attacked and killed in prison as well in the last 8 hours.  It was a testament that no one went against Elias or the people under his protection.  Fusco finished detailing this information just as Reese saw Finch limp towards him. 

“Good game?” Reese asked, pocketing his phone.

“Not particularly.”

“Carter and Fusco send their love.”

“How kind.”

They traveled most of the way back in the car in silence.  Reese wasn’t sure how much Finch knew, and vice versa.  Neither was particularly willing to share during the ride home.  On the walk from the car to the library, they passed a pay phone and it began to ring.  Finch glanced at it, then at Reese, who nodded in approval, so Finch answered it.  It was time to get back to what they were good at.  They had a new number.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me through this whole story! I'd love to hear what you think of the whole piece now that the epilogue is complete. Does it work as a chapter story, or should I have stuck with a one-shot? Anyway, till next time!


End file.
